


Loth-Cats and Loth-Rats

by TessaDoesThings



Series: Tessa's Soft Wars [3]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Caleb has Life Skills (TM), Ezra Bridger is the Loth-Cat whisperer, Gen, Mace is tired, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars, Stormtroopers kick puppies, The Empire has bad cyber-security, of everyone's bullshit, of his lineage's bullshit, of your bullshit, the best conversations happen while making bread
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25399498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TessaDoesThings/pseuds/TessaDoesThings
Summary: All Mace Windu wanted out of the Post-Clone Wars world was a simple trip with his lineage to the long-forgotten Jedi Temples of the Outer Rim. However, on Lothal, the three might have bitten off more than they expected. The Republic may have triumphed, but the roots of what could have become the empire are gripped in the corners of the galaxy, and it might be time for some aggressive space weeding. Or a coup d'etat. That would work too.Or: Kanan who is still Caleb and Ezra meet. It's Softer this time.
Relationships: Depa Billaba & Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus & Mace Windu, Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus, Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus & Mace Windu, Ezra Bridger & Kanan Jarrus, Ezra Bridger & Mace Windu
Series: Tessa's Soft Wars [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829968
Comments: 114
Kudos: 270
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	1. Loth-Cat on the Plains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Runs in the Lineage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334855) by [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506). 



> I know that Rebels isn't always the most beloved of the star wars shows, and I'm not always the biggest fan of the plots, but I love the characters and want to explore how the ghost crew comes to be in a soft wars universe because the space family belongs together.

When the ship lands on the planet below, Mace could only be grateful. He loves both members of his lineage dearly, but the three of them had been confined in a fairly small ship for nearly a week now, and he was looking forward to the moment when Depa finds a new target for her mischief. Mace peaks out of the window of his quarters on the ship at Lothal’s sky. The sky is light clear blue, and while there is a speckling of clouds, but those were hardly storm clouds. He leaves his outer robe in the closet but clips his lightsaber to his belt. It is surely improper to use the force to slide open the door to the shared lounge space, but Mace is on a nice, post-war meditative retreat, and who exactly was going to stop him?

Mace has no idea what he walked into, but Caleb is on the couch and shrieking in laughter, wiggling in place while trying to keep himself from sliding down to the floor. He looks far more like the child he had not been in so long than 16-year-old he actually was.

“Ma- Mah- Master Billaba!” Caleb’s left foot kicked into the air at an angle he had never quite managed to achieve when he was running the acrobatics drills required to learn Vaapad. Really, it was impressive.

“What is that, Padawan? Is that an apology? For pouring sugar in my caf?” Mace’s padawan crows at his grandpadawan, and twitches her fingers, setting off another set of giggles. Mace realizes then he is not the other Jedi on this ship to misuse the force this morning. Mace pauses for a moment as Depa shifts her hand and Caleb slides off the couch. “I don’t hear an apology, Padawan!” Depa singsongs, continuing to tickle Caleb with the force.

“I’m-” He wheezes through a laugh. “I’m-” He breaks off again. “I’m not sorry!” Caleb bites out at them, then is lost to another wave of laughter that has him rolling on the ground. Caleb sends a pleading gaze Mace’s way, and Mace feels himself weaken in the face of his Grandpadawan’s cuteness. Still, he digs up the stern face he perfected as Depa’s master. All of Mace’s resolve lasts for about a minute before he sighs.

“Padawans.” He groans out, and both Depa and Caleb freeze in place. “If you don’t mind, we have made it planetside.” In seconds Caleb had bounced to his feet.

“It’s Lothal, this time, right?” Caleb asks and scurries to the gangway of their ship. Depa unfolds herself from her chair in a way that manages to look dignified and composed, despite her previous position. Mace briefly mourns the gangly padawan she had once been – it was harder for her to hide her mischievous nature then. The dignity she wraps herself in as she tucks her hands into the sleeves of her robe is a lie, and Mace would know. He has a holonet dating profile to prove it.

“Indeed, it is Caleb.” She gently grabs him by the shoulder as he reaches to unbolt the ship door, and pulls him back a few steps, before unceremoniously dumping his outer robes into his arms. “And put that on, please, it’s supposed to be windy here.” Mace had heard that Lothal was, at most, vaguely breezy. Commander Grey’s influence, then, had transformed Depa into someone as protective as he was in the time they had spent on Concord Dawn, ensuring that the Vode actually had everything they needed there before Mace stole his lineage away to the outer rim. Mace was beginning to worry he was going to have to negotiate a custody agreement over the two at this rate.

“But Master Mace doesn’t have his!” Caleb pouts, looking very put out about having to put on the outer robe, and instead just was simply holding it away from his body. Depa whirls around to face him.

“This is between you and your Master, Caleb,” Mace responds in his best Head-Of-The-Order voice, and raised his hands in surrender. Still, Depa had trained her force signature onto him and was using it to physically poke and prod his mind. Mace narrowed his eyes at her. Then, to redirect her ire, Mace flicked his fingers behind his back, channeling the force to lift Caleb’s outer robe and catch his hand in the correct sleeve. From there, he yanks it back so that it wraps around his body, and Depa is able to bully him into sliding the last sleeve into place. Then, and only then, does Depa relent and open the gangway so the three of them can descend to the planet below, Mace assuming that it’s the last of the robe issue. Mace is wrong.

They’ve parked their ship on the outskirts of the planet’s Capital City, not too far from the old temple, but still far enough that they would be better served borrowing a set of speeders. They weren’t going to fly in to close in the ship. Not after what happened at the Bespin temple. (Mace will never look at clouds the same way again.) The three of them head out together in the direction the force gently nudged them to go, Caleb striding across the open plain, and Depa and Mace following a handful of steps behind.

They walk in peaceful silence, simply enjoying being around each other with nowhere urgent to go. No words need to be spoken, and Mace finds that the walking acts as something that bordered on meditation, his consciousness sinking partway into the force. He can feel Depa beside him doing the same, though Caleb seems to be bouncing in and out of it as passing things across the wide plains caught his attention. The long grasses of the planet brush against Mace’s legs, neither coarse nor soft, and the soil crunches between his feet in a way that spoke of dirt that settled years ago. Mace takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, enjoying the quiet hum of the nature around them, and trusting in the force to guide his steps.

Mace jolts out of his trance state when Caleb let out a jolt of surprise in the force, followed by an actual whoop of joy. Mace opens his eyes to see an exasperated yet fond expression on Depa’s face, and Mace traces her line of sight to see Caleb making his way through the tall grasses, his arms wrapping around his outer robe, which Caleb appears to have shed. Mace can feel Depa’s exasperation through the force.

As Caleb gets closer, however, Mace notices a second, smaller force signature wrapping around Caleb’s. That merits a second look, especially once Mace catches the slightest wriggling from Caleb’s robe. Depa clearly does the same, and lets out the longest-suffering sigh.

“Padawan.” Depa packs a remarkable amount of disappointment into one word. It’s a tone Mace perfected while training Depa. He’s very proud to see it will outlast him. A loud mew decides that it is the perfect moment to be heard, echoing out of Caleb’s robe. Mace turns The Look onto his grandpadawan, who sheepishly unfolds the top of his robe to reveal a tooka’s face peering out from the folds of the fabric. Really, if Mace had any hair left to lose, he would lose it to his lineage. “Padawan,” Depa repeats.

“I know, I know. But Master Billaba, it’s injured!” Caleb shifts the fabric to reveal a paw that was definitely not supposed to bend that way. Mace can feel the force soften around Depa and knows that the tooka is coming with them.

“Alright, Padawan, we can take it into town with us. But after we find someone to heal it, we’re letting the tooka go.” There is no room for an argument in Depa’s tone, which is another one he assumes she has poached from him because it’s straight out of the tones that Master Myr was fond of during his own apprenticeship.

“Actually, the Lothal variant is called a Loth-Cat.” Caleb sing-songs. Depa raises an eyebrow. “It was in the briefing packet!” Caleb defends, and Mace decides it’s time to step in.

“Yes, Padawan, I had thought you had learned your lesson about reading through the whole packet after what happened-”

“We should really make it to town before the sun sets, let’s go!” Depa cuts Mace off, striding across the grassland away from the other two Jedi. Caleb sends a commiserating look to Mace, and Mace lobs a smirk at him. Caleb swings his robe back on with a sigh, and the Loth-Cat rests inside the hood that Caleb lets hang, only the creature’s ears and front paws visible on the Padawan’s shoulder, letting out a content purr.

They appear to have been most of the way to town, as there is no time for Mace to settle into his meditation again before the skyline of the city rises in the distance. Mace can feel to signatures in the force moving directly towards them, moving far too fast to be on foot, but independently of each other. Speeders, then. As they come into view, the first thing that Mace notices is the shatterpoint in the force around them, calling out like a warning, and Mace slams up a battlesign-halt mostly on habit, and he can feel Depa and Caleb fall into place beside him on instinct.

The speeders come to a stop in front of them, one of the drivers taking the effort to slam his brakes last minute, spraying them with dirt. Had there actually been any danger to them, Mace assumes that would have been an impressive intimidation tactic, in a bully on a playground kind of way.

“Halt!” One of them calls as the dust settles, and Mace raises one eyebrow and can feel Depa doing the same. Caleb’s disapproval is strong in the force. Mace has been discovering his grandpadawan has a whole set of facial expressions unique from the rest of his lineage, and silently mourns that he’s missing whatever face the boy is making now.

The dust cloud settles, and the first thing that Mace notices is that they wear armor that reminds him vaguely of the armors of a shiny, except that all of the lines are sharpened, hardened. It is far less smooth and more geometric. They shine with tiny shatterpoints where Mace could deliver punishing strikes. The second thing that registers is that both figures have blasters pointed at them. Mace wraps his fingers around his saber, but does not draw. Not yet, the force seems to whisper. The ball is still in their court.

“Halt in the name of High Governor Pryce!”

Well, isn’t this just what today needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mace: Now that the war is over and all of Sheev's Sheev-iness is gone, a nice meditative trip sounds nice.
> 
> Lothal: Yes but what if no.


	2. Loth-Cat in Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace, Depa, and Caleb do their very best to not escalate the situation. They are... somewhat successful.

Depa watches as Master Mace stares down the not-a-clone-trooper, his hand never shifting from where it was just inches away from the ignition on his lightsaber, as close to it as he could get without shifting the fabric to reveal it. Depa carefully slipped her lightsaber up her sleeve, hiding the movement behind her master’s shoulder. She senses Caleb doing the same on his other side. She shifts, each move careful and calculated to fall in to watch Master Mace’s back, and she guides Caleb through similar mirrored movements on his other side. Although, despite Caleb’s gentle request for guidance, he had the movements almost correct on his own. He was definitely improving on his Vaapad, if the stance he automatically fell into was any indication.

“Of course, sirs. We are merely travelers from off-planet.” Master Mace comments in an easy tone, and she can hear the way he masks his annoyance with falsified fear. In the force, Caleb muffles amusement. The false troopers shift, and the one closer to Master Mace clicks the safety of his gun off and back on again. And really, now Depa knows they aren’t actually Vode because those shows of brute power were so far outside their behavior for even the shiniest of shinies.

“All trade must be registered with High Governor Pryce. May I see your license?” The trooper still on his bike responds. Caleb goes to shift into an attacking position, and Depa silently chastises him in the force.

_We have every right to be here, Padawan. There is no need to cause trouble._

_But Master,_ Caleb sends back down their bond. _Something is definitely not right here. There was no mention of a high governor in the briefing._ Well, that’s fantastic. She passes that gently on to Master Mace because for all his teasing she’s sure he didn’t read anything as extensively as Caleb had. Depa’s padawan is a ridiculous nerd.

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with High Governor Pryce. Has there been a shift in power recently?” That is the head of the order talking there, his tone the same one he uses when trying to pull a favor from a difficult senator. One of the ‘troopers’ puffs up his chest.

“High Governor Pryce singlehandedly destroyed the corruption that was poisoning our glorious land, and brought about the end of the reign of that monster Azadi! Now The High Governor has brought about safety and security to ensure that the Republic War Dogs can never bring the darkness back!” Depa can feel her hackles rising at the slight to the Vode who had fought and died and bled for freedom across the galaxy. This time, it’s Caleb sending soothing thoughts back towards Depa, and she gets herself back under control.

“Oh? That is good news indeed!” Depa chimes in her fakest sweet tone, smiling sweetly and clapping her hands together. She can practically feel Master Mace’s sigh. But honestly, cultists. It was easier to placate them for now than to confront them. From experience, cultists tended to dislike being called cultists. Caleb sent Depa a **look** , and she realized this was probably his first run-in with cultists. Good. It was an important right of passage to combat cultists. A valuable life lesson, even. The guard with the gun pointed at Depa’s Master immediately seemed to clock her as an ally and began to lower his weapon. It seemed, however, his compatriot was a little wiser than he was.

“Look, you three, I’m going to have to see licenses. Otherwise, I’m going to have to bring you into HQ.” He climbs off of his speeder and draws a set of binders from his waist. Depa can feel Master Mace containing his sigh. They each only appear to have one set of binders. That means between the two troopers, there are two binders. How do they intend to arrest all three of them? Depa has questions.

“You understand, of course. The High Governor simply has to be certain that no republic scum gets in. After all, I hear those Jedi Freaks can drain the life out of you with just a thought. We can’t have that around civilized folk.” Force, is it too much to ask for one simple mission? At this rate, her padawan will end up like one of those disasters from Obi-Wan’s lineage who think that having to blow something up every mission is normal. The second trooper stood next moved over to stand behind the first one when Master Mace didn’t present any identification. Caleb sighed, and stepped in between Master Mace and the two… armored sentients. (Depa’s been calling them troopers in her head but it feels wrong, these two feel like a mockery of everything the Vode stand for.)

“This is nonsense.” Caleb states and Depa could feel him building up to something in the force, and then Caleb waved his hand slowly past the guards’ buckets, and oh, mind trick. “We have proper identification. You will give us what we need to authorize our presence here, and send us on our way.”

“You have the proper identification. We will provide you with entrance visas.” The guards both respond in monotone voices, and move in sync towards their bikes, presumably to get the visas. Hm, it looks like Depa’s going to have to work on mind tricks with her padawan when she gets the chance because that was far more force than the situation called for. Still, it was effective, Depa muses as she is handed a small green square of flimsiplast, which she tucks into a pocket of her robe.

“Now then, if you’re done playing with these folks, it looks like we have a cult to investigate,” Depa says, pinpointing the bright hotspot of force signatures that had to be the capital city, and striding off in that direction, the wind billowing her robe around behind her. Master Mace’s amusement whispered in the force, reinforced by the ring of playful irritation that billows out from Caleb.

They walk together for around another short period of time, and Depa uses the time to soothe the stress reactions that had sprung up during the confrontation. The nerves and hyper-force awareness that had kept her and her battalion alive would do little to help her now. Besides her, she can feel Caleb unwinding his nerves as well, and Master Mace is clearly resting gently in the force, just on the brink of a light meditative trance. A strong gust blows through the gentle breezes, and Depa reaches up and gently tucks a few stray hairs back into their braids.

Caleb stops abruptly, a short distance to Depa’s left, and she turns to face him, letting her confusion bleed into the force, even as both she and Master Mace follow his beckoning gesture. He drops down into the grasses, letting them hide most of his torso so that only his shoulders and head were visible, the way she was certain that one of the Vode had taught him. Depa and her master follow his lead, dropping into the brush on either side of him.

“What are they building, do you think?” Caleb hisses out loud, and Depa draws a pair of electrobinoculars from her bag. Her elbow bumps Caleb’s hood, and the tooka- sorry, loth-cat who had been dozing inside lets out an offended sound, and Caleb’s hood wiggles strangely as the creature readjusts itself. It had hidden itself completely during the confrontation, Depa realizes, and what did that say about the typical sentient who wore that armor? Nothing good.

Depa brings the electrobinoculars up to her face, adjusting the focus to see the structure. There was a high fence up around it, and are those type-two binary load lifters? Those were banned in the republic after the manufacturing errors were discovered, right?

“It looks like a tower of some kind. There’s wiring inside of all of the walls, and it looks like they’re putting in a really tall life on the far side.” Depa supplies. “It looks like it might be a communications tower? And they’re using some illegal equipment, but…”

“That isn’t enough to trigger this sense of foreboding in the force?” Master Mace finishes her thoughts. Caleb shifts a hand, and Depa passes him the electrobinoculars. He fiddles with the nobs on the side, and then he clearly sees something Depa missed, given the gasp of surprise that escapes him and the low-level horror that bleeds into the force.

“Padawan, what is it?” Depa places a steadying hand on Caleb’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath, and after a beat releases it.

“Masters, the big red banner on the side? That’s the cog of the Eternal Empires, used back during the days of the Sith Empires and the Old Republic.” Well, if anyone force-sensitive passes this way soon, they will definitely be able to feel the horror all three of them are bleeding out for months.

“Oh, Kark it all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mace: We're allowed to be here, we're doing nothing wrong.  
> Stormtrooper: What about those damned Jedi, ay mate? We'd have to execute any of them.  
> Mace: fuck.


	3. Loth Cat on the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace, Depa, and Caleb attempt to investigate. They quickly get sidetracked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [This Awesome Person](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaylaYuy/pseuds/RogueLadyVader) for the beta!

Caleb hands the electrobinoculars back to his master, and then gives a smile to her. From there, a gentle tingle in the back of his mind lets him know that Master Windu is planning to investigate closer. The grasses whisper around them as they shift through the underbrush. Caleb can feel Master Billaba at his back and Master Windu just ahead of him, and, for a moment he feels the Force sing between them.

It takes only a handful of moments, but they reach the base of the hill they had previously been on top of, and now they’re level with the strange construction site. Caleb can feel the life forces of what had to be a light construction crew moving about the location, and could see the shining white armor of the false troopers who stood guard around the site.

 _That’s an awful lot of guards for a random construction site, Masters._ He pushed his suspicions across his bonds to his lineage members, and they sent back feelings of agreement, which was followed by a healthy dose of suspicion.

 _It’s a communications array._ Master Billaba sends back at them. _Why guard it so heavily when the border guard was so incompetent?_ She wonders into their bond.

 _Slave laborers?_ Caleb wonders.

 _No, those guards are facing outwards – they’re protecting the tower. The question here, is from what?_ Master Windu answers, and Caleb can feel a light flush cover his face – he should have seen that, he’s nearly a senior padawan at this point. The grasses shift as Master Billaba adjusts her stance from where she’s crouched beside Caleb. She battlesigns stay-here and scouting-closer, and then without waiting for a confirmation, begins to move forward. Caleb wants to protest, to go with her, but he knows that objectively, Master Billaba can hide her presence far better than he can. Caleb quickly adds that to his list of techniques to improve on. Maybe there’s a trick to it buried in the archives somewhere?

“Master Windu, do you think the Sith Cog is connected to Darth Sidious?” Caleb finally whispers meekly to his grandmaster, and the Jedi master turns to face the padawan.

“I don’t know.” Master Windu quietly grinds out, and Caleb feels his irritation through their bond. “But, I won’t lie, there is a high chance. It doesn’t make sense for anyone else to use it.” Caleb runs a hand through the fur of his Loth-Cat, and he takes a deep breath.

“Okay. Right. We can figure this out.” Caleb puts out there, his arm reaching back over his shoulder to scratch the Loth-Cat between its ears.

Which is, of course, the cue for the explosions.

They rattle the ground with vibrations that shake Caleb down to his bones, and the crack of metal shattering and bursting with explosions is followed by a second round of vibrations that Caleb is sure is the first wave of debris redesigning the landscape of the area.

 _DEPA!_ And that was Master Windu’s voice, rattled like Caleb had never heard before, and then his bond with his Master washed with a pain that faded just as quick.

 _I see our bomber! One figure, heading east on foot!”_ Is Master Billaba’s answering call. Caleb is moving before he even realizes it.

“Caleb, go! I’ll get Depa.” Master Windu calls, and Caleb knows that his grandmaster is better with force healing anyway, so he simply sends back a sense of agreement. “We’ll catch up with you!”

Caleb feels the grass whip across his legs, catching in his robe as it whips through the brush. He’s running against the wind, so the fabric billows out behind him. Caleb is sure that he sticks out like a sore thumb against the golden plains in his dark brown cloak. Caleb ignores that issue for now, instead throwing out his force sense as far as he could go, until- there!

 _They’re heading into town!_ Caleb yells into the bond, hoping that would carry it through the significant distance he’s put behind him as well. He gets a light sense of confirmation back, just as the figure comes into view. It appears to be a human male wearing a sandy-gold tunic and what looks like white pants. Normally ineffective cover, but Caleb has to admit that it blends in well against the golden grasses that make up these plains. Of course, the bomber’s uncovered dark black hair means he stands out anyway, but hey, points for trying.

The bomber’s force signature is not what Caleb expected. There’s no malice in it, just a strong sense of it-had-to-be-done, and the same kind of determination he’d felt when he had worked on Kaller to help the people who lived there rebuild. It was a strong sense of home and a desire to see it flourish. Even an undertone of kindness, to Caleb’s surprise. Caleb is struck with the realization that this man likely hadn’t know Master Billaba was there at all – more than a man who had hurt his Master, Caleb might have an ally here against the false troopers.

The bomber’s not a slow man, either. To catch up, Caleb pulls from the force to wrap himself in it, feeling it flow through him. The force fills his body, and Caleb pushes it into his legs, boosting his speed. The capital city comes into view as Caleb follows the bomber over a ridgeline. It’s impressive, Caleb has to admit, the white stone of the buildings sparkling in the light. There’s another construction project that is large enough for him to make out from this far enough which towers over the city. It looks like a dome of some kind. Caleb files that away under things to deal with later. There’s only a handful of yards left between bomber and pursuer when Caleb switches tactics.

“I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to talk!” He called into the wind, and the bomber spares a quick glance over his shoulder. Caleb can’t make out his facial expressions at that distance, but the short burst of surprise that echos in the Force is enough to let him know that he wasn’t the pursuer the mysterious man expected. The man stumbles but keeps moving, which gives Caleb an idea. Caleb calls upon the Force, bunching up the grasses in his target’s path, and hardening them until the man’s foot catches on them, and he tumbles forward into the brush. Caleb skids to a halt beside him.

“What the?” He’s tugging at the grasses, and Caleb subtly releases them, keeping his hand movement subtle enough to avoid detection – he has no idea where this man stands on the whole burn-the-Jedi-at-the-stake thing.

“Are you alright?” Caleb askes, squatting down beside the other man. Suddenly, he’s aware of two figures approaching rapidly on speeders, and they’re not familiar ones. “Get down!” He hisses out and pins the man down to the ground. He struggles for a moment until the sounds of the speeder bikes can be heard, and then Caleb shifts to give the other man a view of the two armored figures speeding right past them, the grass hiding them from vision. He stays on top of the bomber until he feels both force signatures fading away towards the city.

“Thanks for that…?” The other man adjusts his position, moving into to be seated and dusting off his tunic, which Caleb can now see is covering an orange top. Caleb looks over the man now. He hardly seems like a rugged criminal, and he can feel no ill-intent from him. It really does feel like he didn’t even know Master Billaba was there, like he hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, except maybe the false troopers.

“Caleb.” He offers his hand to the older man. “I figured you wanted to be caught by them even less than I do.”

“Ephraim Bridger.” The bomber, Bridger, offers in response. “And what did you do that would have Stormtroopers chasing you?”

“Nothing. Yet.” Caleb says with one of the cocky grins he’s seen Padawan Tano throw around when she wants to look more confident than she probably is. Also, the false troopers are called Stormtroopers? It’s not a name he’s familiar with – and it definitely has no ties to any of the old Sith empires, so at least this is something new.

“Are you going to get flagged if you try to enter the city?” Bridger responds and Caleb shakes his head.

“I don’t think so? My papers should all be in order, although I don’t know much about the situation around these parts.” Caleb responds, and Bridger pauses just a moment before getting to his feet, and offering Caleb a hand, which he takes, and the older man pulls the padawan to his feet. Bridger doesn’t show any suspicion or doubt in his body language, but there are hints of both floating around his force signature. Caleb reaches inside his robe and pulls out the ID card that he’d gotten from the border guard storm troopers. It doesn’t do much for the suspicion, but the doubt recedes a little.

“In that case, you’re welcome to head into town with me. My wife and I are always happy to help anyone who’s working against Pryce’s ‘empire’.” Bridger puts quotation marks the word Empire, but Caleb can feel his gut drop already. He does not like where this is going.

_I’m going into the Capital. Have a possible source of intel. Meet you there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mace: Gosh, I sure am glad this seems like just a weird planetary cult  
> The Universe: But what if actually an empire  
> Mace: Motherfucker


	4. Loth-Rat at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ephraim takes Caleb to meet his family, and something unexpected happens.

Ephraim steps through the barrier of soldiers that could be found at every entrance to the capital, accepting his ID card from the stormtrooper who practically threw it at him. Ephraim opens the pouch he’d started carrying when the stormtroopers showed up and slips the card back into the yellow inner pocket as he turns to watch Caleb go through security. The teen’s ID cards had seemed in order when Ephraim had seen them, but it would not be the first time that a very strong fake failed to hold up when actually put to the test. That’s why Ephraim had insisted on going through security separately. Still, despite Caleb’s own admission that he wants to avoid stormtrooper attention, Ephraim cannot see any of the tells that usually get newer agents caught. Whoever this kid is, he’s good.

Ephraim may not totally trust Caleb yet, but the boy had helped (maybe even saved) him earlier, and the fledgling rebellion was nowhere near the point where they could thumb their noses at his kind of talent just because everything about him screamed off-worlder.

“You’re all clear.” The stormtrooper steps aside to let Caleb through the barricade. Caleb extends his hand in front of him for a moment, and just stands there, staring down the stormtrooper holding his ID. The soldier doesn’t react, and for a moment Ephraim can feel the tension building, and then the stormtrooper folds first, handing the teenager his ID card back. Caleb accepts the card back, slipping it up the sleeve of the robe he wore.

“Move along.” The stormtrooper on the other side of the entrance growls out, but Caleb is unflinching. Even as the aggressive soldier unslings his rifle from over his shoulder and begins to load it, Caleb ignores him, stepping between them.

“May the High Governor award you for your service!” Caleb chirps towards them with a smile, as though they are not actively threatening him, and shifts to stand next to Ephraim.

“You all good kid?” Ephraim has seen many grown men and women shaken up by their first experiences with the stormtroopers since the white-armored figures arrived three years back.

“Yeah. I’m all good.” A playful smirk dances across Caleb’s face. “The stormtroopers think much higher of their own skills than I do.” He murmurs conspiratorially back to Ephraim, and Ephraim has to bite back a snort at that. He does smile though – the expression really highlights the teen’s age. Not a child, but maybe not quite an adult either.

“Alright. My place is just this way, if you will follow me. My wife will kill us if we are late for dinner.” Ephraim comments as he starts walking, and Caleb immediately moves to keep pace with him. To Ephraim’s surprise, he suspects that if Caleb knew where they were going, Ephraim might struggle to keep up – Caleb’s strides are long and purposeful, self-assured in ways so rare for anyone to have, much less a teen.

It takes a couple of minutes to get home, and Ephraim spends the time studying his new companion, who in turn seems surprisingly comfortable with the silence. The teen has what Mira would label a babyface in a minute, but the effect is hindered by the way his eyes seem almost haunted by wisdom beyond his years. His dark brown hair is long enough to be pulled back into a ponytail that hangs down just below his shoulders. For just a moment, Ephraim thinks he can see a flash of color sneaking out. A bead of some kind, perhaps. Whatever it was, Ephraim couldn’t find it again on a second look. It is likely a private cultural thing wherever Caleb came from.

Caleb is tall and lanky, and Ephraim feels safe in assuming he’s a near-human. Most of his figure is obscured by the billowing robe that seems to be several sizes too big like he had grabbed someone else’s robe that morning and decided it was close enough. It hangs down so low it’s a wonder it isn’t dragging in the ground.

Ephraim isn’t able to stop the noise that comes out of his mouth when a little face pops out of the hood of the robe. It’s a blue Loth-Cat just barely peering over the teen’s shoulder, left ear twitching in the way that Ephraim knew was a happy expression.

“Everything alright?” Caleb turns to face Ephraim.

“You have a friend.” Ephraim comments, gesturing at the Loth-Cat, which seems almost familiar somehow. Caleb grinned sheepishly.

“This little guy found me out on the plains. There’s something wrong with his paw, so he’s hitching a ride.” The teen smiles at the little creature.

“That will make you popular with my little boy. He loves those things.” Ephraim commented, coming to a stop before his home. He reached into his bag, pulling out his housekey and sweeping it through the lock to open the door. It slid open, and Ephraim steps into his home. “I’m home!” He calls and turns as he hears the door closing behind Caleb.

“Welcome home!” Mira leans into the room. “How did it- oh! Who is this?”

“This is Caleb…” He turns to the teen, suddenly realizes that Caleb has shared no last name. “He gave me a hand during my side errand today. I figured the least I could do was invite him to dinner.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ma’am.” Caleb gives a little half-bow.

“Please, call me Mira. And this little one is our son, Ezra.” Mira says, stepping all the way into the room, and now Ephraim could see his son was clinging to Mira’s back, arms around her neck and legs around her waist. A strange, unreadable expression flickered across Caleb’s face, but it bled into a smile.

“Hello there, little one.” Caleb practically coos at Ephraim’s son, and Ezra giggles in response, wiggling down to the ground. Mira lets him down, and Ezra practically bolts over Caleb. Which is odd, because he’s always been a fairly shy kid. At the same time, Ezra’s gifts have made him a surprisingly good judge of character, so Ephraim eases the part of his mind that is switching into overdrive as this mostly unknown figure gets so close to his son.

Ezra walks over to Caleb in the way that three-year-olds do, mostly solid in their ability to do so but still missing a step here and there. Ezra then stops just before Caleb, and the teen drops into a squat that reminds Ephraim just how much he is not a teenager anymore. Caleb then doesn’t react, simply waits for Ezra to move, in a staring contest that feels wildly different from the one he had with a stormtrooper not 15 minutes ago.

Warm arms snake around Ephraim’s waist, and he gently catches his wife’s hands in his. Mira comes to lean against Ephraim, resting her head against his chest.

“I heard the stormtroopers rushing around earlier – I guess it went well, then?” She murmurs at him.

“Yup. Although, Caleb chased me for a while after I completed the job. I thought he was one of them at first. I’m still not quite sure why. It’s part of why I invited him for answers. But he’s clearly got no love for the boys in white, and he hid me from a patrol I hadn't seen. If he hadn't, they likely would have caught me.” Ephraim responds, leaning to rest his head on top of her hat.

In front of them, Ezra suddenly lunges forward, and pokes Caleb straight in the nose, eliciting a squeak of surprise from the teen. It’s the most genuine and unguarded emotion Ephraim has seen from the boy.

“Ca-“ Ezra starts, clearly about to declare something big, when Caleb’s Loth-Cat friend makes another appearance. “Nan!” Ezra cries out, and Caleb looks at the toddler, bewildered.

“No, not Ka **nan** , Ca **leb**.” Caleb emphasizes the second syllable, seemingly unaware of the way the Loth-Cat is shifting in his hood.

“Nan! Nan!” Ezra cries out, reaching up at Caleb’s hood. It’s clear that Caleb is confused because he just gently bats Ezra away. Ezra makes a very upset face and stomps his foot.

“Ezra…?” Caleb asks, clearly sensing the same thing that both Ephraim and Mira are – an upcoming incident. Maybe Caleb expects a tantrum, but Ephraim feels his gut dropping as Ezra sticks his hand out, and the Loth-Cat begins to float out of Caleb’s hood, and towards Ezra. The animal seems panicked at first, but within moments is fine with it. Mira is frozen against Ephraim – they’ve worked so hard to keep Ezra’s abilities hidden from the others here, and now it might all be for nothing because Ephraim got so caught up in his rebellion that he didn’t consider it.

"Nan!" Ezra declares, squeezing the Loth-Cat to his torso, clearly now addressing the animal.

Luckily, Caleb seems transfixed as well, following the Loth-Cat’s pathway through the air, but there’s nothing malicious that Ephraim can see. Although, the teen was very good at hiding his emotions, Ephraim realized, and there was none of the sense of wonder that was reflected in the eyes of other Rebels the first time they saw Ezra use his abilities either.

Ephraim was frozen in place. He knew what Pryce said about people with abilities like Ezra. Personally, he didn’t believe a thing that came out of her mouth, but he had no idea how Caleb felt about the Jedi, if he believed what Pryce and her lackeys said about them, if Caleb would think Ezra was one. However, when Caleb finally spoke, there was no fear in the words, no accusation, simply a surprising mixture of wonder and understanding that Ephraim suddenly doubted even he or his wife had.

“Oh, **wow**.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ephraim: Wait, crap, what if Caleb hate the Jedi  
> Caleb, a Jedi: This child is precious, must protec


	5. Loth-Cat in the Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb manages to get more bad news, and Mira loves her son.

Mira felt as though the whole world was holding its breath. Certainly, she and Ephraim both were, as their young guest watched Ezra. His immediate reaction to her son’s power wasn’t outright hostility, but she still felt frozen in place. (Mira had read about the fight, flight, or freeze reactions. She’d never to have a freeze reaction.) Caleb extended a hand towards Ezra, and Mira felt her breath catch in her throat, and she tried to will her limb into moving, but all she could do was shake very slightly and watch.

Mira’s fear rose like a wave, and Ezra burst into tears. Her son’s cries broke through whatever was holding Mira back, and she was able to move again. She crossed the room in a couple of strides, drawing Ezra up into her arms, and placing herself between Caleb and her son, clutching at the toddler as though any moment, he would be taken from her. Ezra only cried louder. Finally, Caleb spoke.

“You have to calm down.” What? Clearly, her confusion must have been visible to him somehow because Caleb tried again. “He can feel your emotions – he’s upset because he can feel your fear, feel how upset you are.” Caleb is moving his hands in a placating gesture and has taken a couple of steps away from Mira and Ezra, putting an entire arm’s length between them.

“And why should we believe you?” Mira askes with more venom than she means to. She spares a quarter of a second to feel a slight tinge of guilt, but Caleb doesn’t look too upset, so she dismisses it. Mira feels her husband’s hand on her shoulder, but she ignores its silent message of calm. Caleb simply takes a deep breath, and shifts the cloak he wore, reaching a hand up one sleeve, and pulling out a silver metal tube from within. The upper half of it appears to be a second cylinder, but with a second glance, Mira notices that said upper half was hollow and that one side is gone. It is merely a half-shell that extends from the bottom, despite the narrower strip in the middle. Ephraim had gone very still.

“Don’t… freak out,” Caleb says, then presses down on something on the side, and, with a snap-hiss, the glowing blue blade extends upward. Mira takes another step back but feels her anger and fear begin to bleed out. As the emotions leave her, Ezra begins to calm down too. Caleb was probably right, she realizes. Of course, he was right, he has a lightsaber, she realizes. He’s actually a Jedi.

“You’re a Jedi?” Ephraim echoes her thoughts out loud. With another hissing sound, the blue blade vanishes back into the metal part of the lightsaber, and Caleb nods.

“A padawan, but yes. I’m a Jedi.” Caleb comments, a small grin ghosting over his face. As he speaks, he raises a single finger to his mouth in a universal motion for quiet. Ezra, now significantly calmer than he was before, coos at Caleb from where Mira is holding him against her side. Caleb wiggles his fingers back at Mira’s son. The Loth-Cat pokes it’s head out from around their couch, where Mira assumes it must have hidden when tensions started running high.

“A padawan?” Mira echoes the unfamiliar word back at Caleb.

“A… Jedi in training, basically. I’m still completing my apprenticeship under a Jedi Master.” Mira gives in to Ezra’s wiggling and sets him back down on the floor as Caleb explains. When she looks up again, the lightsaber is out of sight.

“Wait, so is there a second Jedi here? It isn’t safe! Are they worried about you? Do you need to go meet up with them?” Mira might not have Jedi mind-reading powers, or whatever Jedi did (Mira had no idea), but she knew enough about adults to know that any half-decent one would be worried out of their mind if their child, student, or charge, was missing. Caleb winces in response to that comment.

“Not… exactly? There are three of us here. Me, my master, and my grandmaster.” Caleb must catch the confusion that Mira can’t quiet keep off of her face because he explains after barely a moment. “My grandmaster is my master’s master. Like your parent’s parent is your grandparent?” Caleb babbles a little.

“That makes sense.” Ephraim cuts in.

“Right,” Caleb responds, then clearly steels himself for something. “I let my grandmaster know where I was going before I followed you. We split up.” Caleb pauses again. “My grandmaster, Master Windu, went to find my master, Master Billaba. She was in the middle of investigating the tower when it… exploded.” Caleb trails off, and Mira doesn’t think there’s an accusation there, but she hears one anyways. She sends out a silent prayer to whatever forces are out there that her rebellion was not responsible for this Jedi’s death.

“You said your Master went to the tower to investigate?” Ephraim asks, and Mira turns to look at her husband because she will openly admit she has no idea what his train of thought is.

“In-ves-ti-gate!” Ezra squeals, and dives behind the couch, presumably to investigate… his Loth-Cat friend, apparently. Mira has a sinking feeling that her family has a new pet for a couple of months. **Again**. She slips Ephraim’s arm off of her shoulders and crosses the room to stand at an angle where she can keep an eye on her son without cutting herself out of an important conversation.

“Yeah, she was investigating. We didn’t exactly know what we were walking into when we came to Lothal. We’re here because there’s an old Jedi temple somewhere on the planet. We were unaware of the political situation. So, when we came across the Sith cog on the side of the tower, we were definitely concerned, especially given how the Clone Wars ended.” Ezra has managed to grab his furry friend by the tail and is pulling the creature towards him. If it was anyone child other than her Ezra, Mira would be concerned, but the normally feral creature is instead purring softly and attempting to nuzzle her son.

“The Sith… do you mean the Imperial cog?”

“Is that what’s on the side of buildings?”

“Yeah.”

Mira is vaguely aware of the conversation going on in the background, but Ezra has pulled the Loth-Cat close and is now attempting to squeeze the creature in a huge hug, and she’s pretty sure there’s a limit to whatever it is that Ezra does to tame these creatures, and this might be over it.

“Come here, Ezra.” Ezra turns his sad eyes on Mira as soon as she starts speaking, as though he knows that she is trying to separate him from his newest best friend. Honestly, he might. Can Mira’s son read minds? Now that she might actually be able to get answers to these questions, Mira finds herself making a mental list. “Why don’t you come and help Mama with dinner, Ezra?” She asks, and Ezra pauses for a moment. “We can have flatbread.” She sing-songs at Ezra, who nods in response.

“Can nan come?” He asks, and Mira gives a small smile.

“Only if nan promises to stay away from the food that isn’t his.” She responds, and Ezra giggles, and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Mira follows, calling back over her shoulder at her husband. “Love, can this conversation move to the kitchen? Ezra’s helping with dinner, so I could use an extra four hands.” She doesn’t see Caleb’s reaction, but Ephraim’s laughter follows her into the kitchen, where Ezra is climbing onto his stool to reach the countertop.

Mira carefully gathered flour from the jar on the counter, then carefully measured out the salt, adding it to the mix, before adding the precise amount of the blue milk, carefully not spilling so much as a drop. Both salt and blue milk were imported from off-planet, making them precious commodities these days. Mira begins mixing the ingredients together into a dough as she listened to her husband and Caleb continue their conversation, Nan the Loth-cat curled up around her legs.

“So, in summary, that cog has been used for millennia to represent empires run by Sith Lords. So, given the recent attempt to take over the galaxy by a Sith lord, it was concerning.” Caleb was saying.

“I can imagine. Well, I don’t know anything about a Sith Empire – but Pryce and her lackeys call it the symbol of the Galactic Empire.” Ephraim responds. The dough in between Mira’s hands is beginning to take shape, become less a mixture of ingredients, and more the squishy yet firm consistency it should have.

“That does not sound good.” Caleb’s voice responds. “Especially since that implies other planets. I was under the impression that this was something happening solely on Lothal.” Mira removes half of the dough from the bowl she had been mixing it in, setting it in front of her, before passing the dough remaining in the bowl to Ezra to knead. She has to admit, she was very surprised that he has remained quiet this long, usually, Ezra was full of questions and not shy about asking them. Ezra seemed content though, grinning as he kneads the dough in the bowl, so she wasn’t worried yet.

“Up until now, it pretty much has been contained to Lothal. But from what we’ve heard, she’s getting ready to host many of her allies from across the outer rim in order to change that.” Ephraim says. He sounds worried, and Mira can’t blame him, the idea scares him too. Tseebo had been in a near panic when he’d sent the two of them the heads up that the meeting was being planned.

“Do you know who is invited to this meeting?” Mira looks down as Nan decides that her foot is the best possible place to take a nap, resting its head there and wrapping its tail around Mira’s left leg.

“No, we’re still working on that. Other planets aligned with Pryce might have other Rebel cells willing to work with us. Bombing the communications tower will have bought us some time though – we think it’s how she and her allies have been communicating while avoiding the Republic’s relay.”

“Is there somewhere this information would be stored?”

“Pryce’s office, at the base of the huge dome she’s been building, or inside the operational parts of the dome itself,” Mira calls back. One of her old friends worked for Ryder Azadi when he was governor and has managed to stick around into Pryce’s administration. She doesn’t love Mira and Ephraim’s rebellion, but she likes Pryce less, and that’s really what matters.

“Well then. I guess it’s time to break into a local government again.” Caleb responds.

“Dinner first!” Ezra chimes in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caleb: Alright, so this is pretty bad, but I can work with this situation  
> Galaxy: But what if this was just one corner of a galaxy-wide problem?  
> Caleb: But could it not?


	6. Loth-Cat Surviving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mace finds Depa where she was thrown after the explosion and gets even more bad news.

After the explosion, Mace silently steels himself for any kind of condition he could find his padawan in. He waves Caleb on his way as soon as the boy finds something else to do, both because they do need someone to chase after that bomber, but also because there are certain conditions he knows Depa would never want Caleb to see her in if it could be avoided.

Mace feels out, looking for any sign of a second bomber, and when he finds nothing, he begins to retrace Depa’s steps towards the crumbling com tower. It’s not the cleanest bombing Mace has ever seen. There’s a lot of structural damage, and some pieces either have fallen or are falling off of the tower, but for the most part, it is still standing. Mace buries his irrational desire to knock the rest of it over, to destroy the mostly intact Sith Cog that still hangs there.

The grasses brush slowly against Mace’s legs as he creeps through them, thankful that the lighter robes he chose to wear today blend in against the golden plants. Mace’s movements are short and controlled, each step soundless against the dead plants and dirt beneath it. There’s no wind in the meadow, and Mace keeps his eyes on the gentle imprints Depa’s feet had left in the mulch, drawing closer to the backside of the tower.

Inevitably, Depa’s tracks run into the mess of shrapnel and degree from the explosion, and Mace is forced to switch tactics. He lets down a portion of his tight shields, reaching out across the plains to try to find Depa. Normally her force presence practically screams at him in the force. Even when it was shrouded in darkness, it was loud. Now though, it was quiet and barely there at all, more akin to when Depa had spent those 6 months barely hanging on in a bacta tank. That did not bode well.

 _I’m going into the Capital. Have a possible source of intel. Meet you there._ Caleb’s force message brushes against Mace’s mind, and he sends back an affirmative before returning to his search.

Mace lowered his shields even further, letting the feeling of all of the life around him rush into him. He holds still as the simple contentedness of the grasses around him fills his awareness. There’s also the absences where grass has been crushed around him, where the force is empty where there should be life. Right on the edge of one of those dead patches is where Mace finds the familiar signature he’s looking for. It’s weak, but there.

Mace abandons as much of his prior caution as he can without creating unnecessary risk, and moves towards the force signature. He raises his shields again, grabbing hold of Depa’s signature and pulls it through his re-erected shields to keep tracking it as he moved through the grass at nearly twice his original speed. As he does so, he weaves a force suggestion into the area around him like a net, a reminder to look away from here, that there is nothing out of the ordinary where he stands. It’s strong enough to catch anyone with low force sensitivity, but not anyone with significantly in tune with the force.

Mace finds his padawan unconsciousness, about five paces from the base of the tower – close enough that she could have been caught in the blast, although he cannot see any burns that stand out right away. More worrying is the huge chunk of debris that has pinned her leg down. A careful look at it assures Mace that he cannot shift it without risk of worsening Depa’s injuries. Instead, he takes a deep breath and hones in on the tiny glistening shatterpoints all through the chunks of rebar and metal. He takes a deep breath and with a flat palm, delivers three strikes which sheer of the sides of the debris, falling away from Depa into the grass around her.

Now that the debris on her leg is smaller, he can give it a more precise movement with the force, catching it with the force, and moving it up off of her leg in small smooth movements. When her leg is finally free of the concrete, Depa gives a small groan but did not stir. Mace set the junk down to the side, out of the way, and drops to his padawan’s side.

Seeing his padawan limp on the ground like this sends in a wave of memories that Mace would rather never remember, and he takes a deep breath before he closes his eyes, and releases those memories to the force. They can’t help him right now. Instead, he rests a hand against Depa’s wrist, carefully feeling until he finds her veins, still steadily pulsing. Her heartbeat and pulse appear to have barely slowed at all, and while mace knows that doesn’t mean nothing is wrong at all, it is a deep relief. A second hand aided by the force gentle shifts Depa until Mace can look at the leg that had been pinned. It’s covered in scrapes and bruises. There’s a cut that appears to be the source of most of the blood but is no longer bleeding. Her ankle is twisted at a bad angle.

From there, Mace digs about in his pockets, producing two small packets of bacta, one of which he immediately tears open. From there he takes the gel between his fingers and begins carefully applying his limited supply to the wounds running up and down under her leg. It looks like the debris had pinned her but not crushed her, for which Mace thanks the force. He doesn’t like the situation on the planet as is, and he doesn’t know that Depa would be able to navigate it while temporarily down one leg. He starts with the biggest cut, using the force to gently clean it out instead of their limited water supply, before filing the cut with the bacta gel.

Depa begins to stir beneath him as he wraps up the last of the cuts on her leg, and Mace gives her a small smile.

 _Don’t move, I’m putting bacta on your leg, Padawan_ Mace sends at her, and she sends back a feeling of affirmative.

 _Wasn’t planning on it_. She adds cheekily. Mace rolls his eyes, and rips the second packet of Bacta open, this time applying it liberally to her ankle. Silently, Mace wishes he had brought his own outer robe to wrap her ankle with, not that he would admit that to his padawan. He would never hear the end of it.

Depa knows anyways. She gently moves her upper body to free what remained of her ruined outer cloak, and Mace takes it from underneath her, tearing the burned fabric into strips to wrap up the bacta and her angle.

“Thanks, Master.” Depa groans at him, her voice a little hoarse. This, Mace does use some of their limited water to address, handing her his flask. She takes it, drinking in a few small sips. As she passes the flask back to him, she speaks.

“Where’s Caleb?” She asks, and Mace gives a small smile in return.

“He left in pursuit of the bomber, although now he’s entered the capital with someone who he believes to be an ally.” Depa nods in response before beginning again.

“Master, I overheard them talking before the explosion. It’s so much worse than we thought, they were talking about a visit from several Moffs.” Depa continues breathlessly. And Mace feels a headache building.

“Do we know how many?” He asks his student.

“At least 6 of them, likely many more along the outer rim.”

“And since a Moff rules over a minimum of three systems, that means whatever is happening on this planet is happening on a minimum of 17 other systems.” Mace wipes the remaining Bacta off his hands into the grasses and then rubs his fingers against his forehead. He rises to his feet, offering Depa a hand. “Can you stand?” She considers that for a moment.

“I think so, but I’ll need you to support me as we go.”

“Of course.” Mace catches her arm around his shoulder. “Now then, we should meet up with Caleb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mace: Oh good I have my padawan we can leave now  
> Depa: Actually things are Bad (tm)


	7. Loth-Cat Sneaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for vanishing for so long! I injured my finger and had to get stitches, which made it very difficult to write, as Star Wars words.... do not dictate easily >.>

By the time Depa sees the wall of the city up ahead, her leg has gone from being plagued by sharp pains to more of a general dull ache. She’s fairly sure that she could walk on her own now, but Master Mace doesn’t seem to be having any problem supporting her, and she doubted she could move at the same pace that he was setting for them on her own.

They move together, step for step, drawing closer to the city’s wall. Master Mace makes no move towards any of the four entrances towards the city. Instead, he, and Depa by extension, walk all the way to the outer wall, pressing themselves up against the smooth surface of it.

 _Avoid the front door?_ She pushes towards him, along with a hint of amusement, even as she unhooks her arm from around his shoulder. She gets a sense of agreement in response. Caleb might have been able to walk in the front door, but with her clearly explosion-induced wounds, they would be immediately pegged as responsible for the explosion and arrested, regardless of the truth of that matter. Neither Depa nor Mace has any desire to meet the High Governor as a prisoner.

 _I suppose going over the wall is suitably dramatic for you._ Depa pokes at her master as she studies the height of the wall. It’s largely smooth, but there are a couple of spots where she could theoretically get a foothold. Master Mace snorts out loud beside her. _I don’t think I can free climb with my leg._ She tacks on. Master Mace nods, then a small tingle grows in the corner of his eye that Depa has come to associate with incoming mischief.

The force hums to life between them. There’s the feeling of it wrapping around Depa and lifting her up off the ground. As she slowly floats up to the top of the wall, she can feel the force around her, filling her with a feeling which reminded her of evenings spent drinking tea over a book with her master.

Depa’s feet land on top of the wall, which has a pathway that runs along the top of it in both ways, but there was not one of the not-troopers anywhere in sight. With a gentle movement of her hand, she reaches out through the force, extending her own signature to meet Master Mace’s and lifting him through the air. She sets him down next to her.

 _Despite what the old troll says, it is possible to lift someone up a wall without throwing them._ Master Mace radiates what Depa knows to be a thinly veiled smug. She giggles, and then casually pushes him off the wall into the city. It was probably more of a throw if she’s being honest.

Depa wraps the force around her injured leg, cushioning both the burns and the sharp pains there. She also releases her pain into the force, little though it was. Then she gently jumped down after Master Mace. When she lands in what is clearly a run-down back alley, he turns to her with a look of exasperation. She schools her face into innocence. She feels the mock-irritation that Master Mace pushes towards her, and she flashes a grin at him in response. That earns her a fond roll of eyes.

Depa and Master Mace both set off down the alley away from the wall. Up ahead of them, Depa can feel a wide variety of people milling about, a bright splattering of warm force signatures that moved about in what Depa guesses to be a marketplace. She can feel small bursts of joy as the people of Lothal greeted each other, or the joy of children running about. But underneath that, there is a sense of unease that lays over the whole city. Likely, the unease comes from the blanket of fear which has latched onto every force-signature she can feel. The fear is not immediately obvious, likely not even to those from who she feels it, but it is there all the same. Depa can track the pathway of the not-troopers by the growth in fear that follows where they move. From the way Master Mace stays close to her side, she knows he feels it too.

As Depa reaches the end of the alley, she carefully draws her cloak closed in order to hide her robes, which were distinctively foreign. A plain brown cloak, however, is a universal garment that would not stand out. After, she casts a look towards Master Mace, a question in the way she raises an eyebrow at him. He had left his cloak on the ship.

 _You should have brought your cloak._ She says, poking him. Master Mace rolls his eyes, a fond smile on his face.

_Somehow, I did not expect to need it to dodge a cult._

_That was your first mistake._ Depa cuts back, and then ducks out of the alley. She steps out into the marketplace she expected and immediately flags four pairs of not-troopers in the marketplace. That feels deeply excessive unless they are not as welcome in the city as they would have travelers believe. Four stands down, Depa spies what she was looking for. A stand is set along the border of the marketplace which is also selling a collection of plain-brown robes.

With a silent apology, Depa moves towards the stand. With a small tug on the force, she topples a box of fabric behind the storekeeper, and while the man is distracted, grabs one of the robes and drops a handful of coins where the robe had been before. She pulls the robe under the extra folds of her own, hiding it from view, and moves away from the stand back towards the alley where Master Mace waits. She does all of it in a single, silent movement so that no one would be able to point out who took the cloak.

Depa thrusts the robe at Master Mace, with a single command to put it on. _You know, Master, even my padawan brought a robe today._ She smirks at him.

_You had to wrestle Caleb into that robe._

_Should I wrestle you into one next time as well?_

_Please don’t._

Depa laughs out loud at Master Mace’s comment as the two of them step out in the market, cloaks hiding their robes but both hoods down around their shoulders. They cross the marketplace together, moving away from the outer wall of the city, and, by unspoken agreement, towards the menacing half-circle, which was suspended in the sky above the city, and cast a long dark shadow. In Depa’s experience, illegitimate or cult governments who felt they had successfully seized control tended to build something that gaudy and store their secrets inside. Depa is willing to bet that the High Governor has her secrets in there as well.

o – o – o – o

As Depa and Master Mace reach the base of the towering half-circle, what has been a quiet conversation died down. Neither of them wants to go in the front door – with the aid of the force, Depa can move without too much pain, but she’s not sure how much use she would be in a fight. So, instead of going in the front door, Master Mace looks for and finds an open window on the east side of the building. He and Depa wait on the roof of one of the buildings that a straight line of sight into the office on the other side of the open window.

When the desk-worker leaves the office empty, Depa follows her master through the open window, landing silently in the office. Depa heads towards the door to step out into the hallway, but Master Mace wraps a hand around her arm.

“Wait.” He murmurs and moves over to where their office worker friend has left his datapad on the desk. From there, he picks up the datapad, pushing the button on the side to turn it on. With a small quirk of the mouth, he inputs the password they had both seen entered earlier during their watch and then grabs a dataspike from inside the desk.

He plugs it into the datapad and sets it to create a backup of all information stored on it on the dataspike.

“Clever.” Depa mutters back to her Master.

“I figure whatever information this random employee has access to, even if it isn’t much, has to be better than going in blind.” He responded, and Depa nodded her agreement before swinging herself up to sit on the desk to wait for the download to complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depa: And I will now banter
> 
> Author: But could you maybe not? This is supposed to be a serious chapter.
> 
> Depa: >:D


	8. Loth-Rat in the Vents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caleb breaks into: A building, A computer, and Mira's parental instincts on the hunt for something the neo-empire has.

“I have to admit, we have never gotten this far before.” The voice-over Caleb’s earpiece grits out what Caleb is going to assume is grudging acknowledgment. Caleb has no idea who is on the other end of the earpiece – a member of Ephraim and Mira’s small underground resistance. The voice is masculine, and also definitely not Caleb’s biggest fan.

“We wouldn’t have ever this far without your help, kid,” Ephriam murmurs to Caleb from where the older man is crouching next to Caleb in the vents. Caleb snorts quietly.

“I’m sure you would have managed it eventually.”

“Not really. There’s no way we could have done that thing with the elevator. I’m still not sure what you did!” Ephriam chuckles. Caleb also isn’t quite sure what he did. He’d been acting entirely on instinct. He’s about to say something to that extent when he feels a pair of force signatures round a corner into the hallway in front of them. Caleb stills in place and hushes Ephriam and Mira beside him. They hold their position in that moment, and Caleb feels like if they make the slightest movement they’ll be caught.

The force signatures pass out of Caleb’s radius, and he sags with relief and feels Mira and Ephriam both let out the breaths it seems all three of them had been holding.

“Clear?” Mira whispers.

“Clear,” Caleb confirms and resumes using the force to carefully and silently pull the last two screws in the vent grate off. After a few final turns, they both slide loose. Caleb grabs them with his hand as he redirects his focus to catch the vent with the force before it could clatter against the ground. With an undignified wiggle, Caleb removes himself from the vent and landing in a crouch in the hallway below. From there, he shifts to the left so that Mira can drop down, and then Ephriam follows after her.

Caleb focuses enough to expand his range, searching for hallways empty of force-signatures. He finds the stormtroopers seem to be moving around in squads of five. “Which way?” He asks the voice in his ear, who has at least some of the blueprint in front of them.

“Northeast.” The voice responds curtly, which would be really useful if Caleb had a compass, but he doesn’t, and there are no windows, so he can’t use the sun to orient himself. Instead, he waits for a moment in silence. Ephriam clears his throat.

“Which way is that?” He asks, and there’s a pause.

“Your left.” The voice in Caleb’s ear is polite to Ephraim. Caleb sees Mira roll her eyes, which earns a snort out of him. Caleb feels around that area with the force one last time before gesturing to the other two.

“This way, there’s a route clear of patrols right now.” He calls as he breaks into a run. The route isn’t direct – they are going to have to duck into corners a couple of times, but hey, better odds than most of the missions Caleb has run in the past. Now that he thinks about it though, that isn’t all that high a bar.

They are able to run in what is basically a straight line toward their intended target for not quite as long as Caleb had hoped but far longer than he expected. Unfortunately, he feels a squadron of four stormtroopers round a corner ahead of them. Caleb grabs Mira and Ephriam by their upper arms and pulls them into an empty room with probably a little more effort than was really necessary. As a result, Ephriam stumbles in the room quiet undignifiedly. As an apology, Caleb catches him with the force as he closes the door.

“What-” Mira starts to ask, but Caleb raises a finger to his mouth in the universal signal for quiet.

“A patrol’s coming.” Caleb whispers, unsure how soundproof the door is. Mira and Ephraim appear to have the same thought, as Caleb can feel their realization and then they both go still when they go quiet, and instinct Caleb remembers very well from the early days of the war that he still hasn’t quite entirely trained himself out off. Still, Grey’s scolding about not freezing up rings in his ear, and Caleb pulls away from the door and deeper into the office.

“Caleb!” Mira hisses at him, but Caleb just grins.

“I wonder whose office this is.” He asks, not really expecting an answer. He moves to the big metal desk that sits in the center of the room. It is a wide, shallow U-shape with one chair behind it and two in front of it. Caleb steps around to the back and lets out a satisfied sound when he spots the stacks of actual flimsy strewn across it. As he begins to rifle through the pages, he can’t help but quietly let out a couple of lyrics to a silly song that he remembered Styles writing. “Flimsy-work, flimsy-work, tell me your secrets.” He switches to humming after he hears Ephraim muffle a snort.

“Whose desk is it?” Ephraim whisper-hisses to Caleb as the younger man picks a sheet of flimsy-work up.

“These are signed Minister Tua.” He mutters back and hears Mira choke on air. Caleb looks up at her. “That name mean something to you?”

“Tua is Pryce’s unofficial second,” Mira whispers back, and Caleb feels a manic grin spread across his face. He reaches into the pocket of his robes and pulls out a dataspike.

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I brought a spare.” He waves it at Mira and Ephraim and watches the grin spread to the older man’s face.

“Surely there will be an encryption.” Mira insists ad Caleb feels around under the flimsy-work for the access port to the datacron he can see embedded in the desk.

“Oh, there absolutely there will be,” Caleb admits before letting out a quiet whoop of success when he finds it, brushing the papers away from the port and inserting the dataspike. “Luckily, I have a wide variety of… life skills.” He lets go of the dataspike as it locks into the port with a quiet click, and the system pulls the dataspike partway into it so that the two systems connect.

Once the dataspike is in, Caleb turns on the datacron and watches as the blue light interface springs to life in front of him. Caleb selects every file stored here and celebrates internally because that is a huge amount of data, far more than he was expecting. Instead of downloading the files, which would run them through the system’s encryption, Caleb instead dives into the system’s settings and changes the backup location to his dataspike. Once that shows as an update, he sets a backup to run.

While he waits, Caleb brings up the files Minister Tua was working on last. It’s mostly out of boredom – the stormtroopers have long passed through the hallway outside the door and there isn’t another patrol close enough for Caleb to monitor them closely. When he begins to read the file in front of him though, Caleb feels his stomach turn to lead, dread curing inside of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mira: But that's not how physics works  
> Caleb: :D

**Author's Note:**

> Mace: Now that the war is over and all of Sheev's Sheev-iness is gone, a nice meditative trip sounds nice.
> 
> Lothal: Yes but what if no.


End file.
